They were both on their second martinis and had finished a tiny bowl of crackers. Duke’s bar looked the same late at night as it did in the afternoon, which, Vesta realised, made it very intimate. It was easy to lose track of time when she was with Charlie. He was telling her about his service days. He’d joined up young and she’d made the calculations – he was twenty-eight, making him, by her reckoning, the perfect age to settle down. They’d been sitting together for almost an hour, and his proximity still gave her a warm glow. It was as if they’d been there for ever – in a dreamworld.When Mirabelle walked in, Vesta didn’t recognise her for an instant. Mirabelle seldom looked dishevelled but her whole demeanour had changed. She was limping, her stockings were in tatters, and she was holding her right arm against her stomach.‘Mirabelle?’ Vesta jumped to her feet. ‘What on earth has happened? You look dreadful!’Mirabelle collapsed onto a seat beside the couple. She was deathly pale and looked exhausted.‘Ma’am, I think you need a drink,’ said Charlie.‘Water,’ Mirabelle mouthed.The Italian waiter appeared.
